wrapped in piano strings

            The trees rise like dark sentinels high above the forest floor, looming over her as she slips through the shadows of the great woodland. For most, it would be intimidating to be alone; not even the early light of dawn can break through the latticework of branches and foliage. Morning dew kisses her nose as she roots around in the heavy undergrowth, searching for some unsuspecting prey. She freezes suddenly, one paw lifted, as she catches the scent of a vole.
            Creeping forward with a feline grace, she barely breathes before springing forward, powerful jaws snapping shut with a loud click. The vole makes a panicked sound and she gives chase, diving into the decomposing leaves and nettles after it. She digs and scrapes at the earth, dragging away big clumps of damp moss only to reveal a tiny little hole. The vole is gone.
            She sighs and bends to wipe her muzzle against her leg, clearing it of debris. Need to be faster, Carolina.